Tales from the Underground
by OwlBee
Summary: A series of short stories revolving around TMNT 2012. Latest - Sometimes, things get left behind. Are you as safe as you thought? Rated for violence.
1. Expendable

A/N – TMNT 2012, set directly after the finale. Spoilers abound.

Expendable

The impromptu dance party we had thrown ourselves to celebrate _saving the world_ was winding to a close. Sensei excused himself over an hour ago saying that his head was aching after his set-to with the Shredder. He gave me a strange look before he slid apart the _shoji_ separating his room from the dojo. It seemed as though he was carrying the weight of a new, heavy burden, but I was sure he would tell us in his own time. Trying to make Sensei talk when he doesn't want to is like trying to break through a brick wall using your own head as a battering ram; painful, pointless, and not worth the inevitable headache.

I shook myself out of my funk, and turned back to my remaining family. This…this was a time to have fun, to unwind from the day's terrible pressure, and, let's be honest, pat ourselves on the backs a little. My brothers had been amazing today, and I couldn't be more proud of them. A fond smile hovered around my mouth as I watched them take a well-earned break from worrying about the rest of the world.

Donatello had ceased being whirled around the _tatami_-covered dance floor by April, and was now deep in earnest conversation with her de-Kraanged father. Kirby O'Neil was none the worse for his experience, and we certainly didn't hold a grudge against him.

April had twirled herself in the direction of my two youngest brothers. It seemed Mikey had needed no prompting to pick up the threads of silliness where Donnie had left them; April was testing the waters of her _kunoichi_ skills by balancing on the soles of his feet, held rigidly in the air as he balanced on his shell. Both my honorary big sister and my baby brother were shrieking with laughter, her higher-pitched giggles mixing with his sweet chuckles, a feel-good symphony that seemed to drown out the music already playing.

My heart lurched as April attempted an ill-fated change in balance, but Raph was immediately there to catch her as she toppled sideways. She laughed as he swirled her around before setting her down, and Mikey was immediately there, clamouring for Raphael to give him the same treatment. My red-banded brother rolled his eyes, but obeyed, hoisting our youngest brother into the air and spinning in a circle.

To think I'd almost left all this behind. If Raph hadn't swooped in and caught me when he did, or if I had 'abandoned ship' any later after securing Kraang Prime, well. It didn't bear thinking about, so I wouldn't. No harm done, anyway. I smiled brightly and headed toward the less rowdy of the two groups gathered in the dojo. Mr O'Neil looked up as I approached, and welcomed me with a smile, then excused himself politely. However, Donnie didn't seem to acknowledge my presence at all. He kept his head lowered as I bent into a crouch, and didn't attempt to start a conversation. To break the stale silence, I blurted out the first thing that came into my head.

"Rough day today, huh?"

Ouch, that was stupid. Donnie knew as well as I did that today had been a little more than 'rough'; he was there, he shared the same cuts and bruises that we were all suffering from. Apparently he shared my sentiment. Donatello gave me a withering look, then rose to his feet with a wince and stalked out of the room.

…_huh_?

Standing abruptly, I made a move to follow my taller brother out of the dojo. I hadn't gotten more than two steps out of the door when Mikey's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Leo! Where're you going?! Don't leave now! We're still goin' strong, bro!"

Ordinarily, I wouldn't have taken much notice of him at this point. Mikey is a sociable guy, and likes everyone to have as much fun as he's having, regardless of how unenthusiastic his companion. It can get pretty tiring at times, and I've found that the best way to deal with him when he's in playful puppy-mode is to give him a pat on the head and quickly make myself scarce.

But…

Tonight there was a kind of frantic anxiety bubbling under the surface of his brittle cheerfulness; the bright smile we all depended on him to provide was strained. April, by this time sitting comfortably on Raph's broad shoulders, shot my youngest brother an alarmed look, then turned an inscrutable gaze on me. I felt immediately uncomfortable, recalling what April was capable of when she was mad. Rolled-up newspaper, anyone?

I smiled back at my baby brother, my own expression as poorly constructed as his. I decided to try out my father's excuse.

"Sorry Mikey, I've got a pretty killer headache. Think I'll just go sit and relax for a bit."

For the second time in less than ten minutes, I got the terrible feeling that I'd just said something moronic. Michelangelo's face paled drastically, freckles and bruises alike standing out in sharp relief against his skin. He took a few steps towards me, halting at first, then rocketed to my side in a matter of milliseconds. I stood still, utterly speechless, as he began to panic.

"Your head hurts?! Why does your head hurt? Did you hit your head? Did you get hurt?! Why didn't you tell us, Leo! _RAPH_, Leo's hurt! You should've _told_ us! You…you should've…"

He was hyperventilating, I think. Certainly breathing far faster than was healthy; shallow, heaving gasps that he seemed to scrape from the very top of his lungs. Trembling hands caressed my face and neck, clumsily looking for terrible injuries that I had accidentally convinced him I was suffering from. Raph had set April down by this point, and he, April, and Mr O'Neil were striding towards us, fear evident in their expressions. I stopped them with a brief shake of my head and rested my hands on Mikey's cheeks, forcing him to look at me. Was he seriously this shaken up?

"Mikey."

"You…you shouldn't have…Leo, you…"

"_Mikey._ Look at me, little brother. Please."

He obeyed, lips still moving silently, hands still stroking over my head.

"I'm not hurt, Mikey. I'm fine, see?"

In one swift movement, I slipped off my blue bandana, allowing it to flutter carelessly to the dojo floor as I bent my head to my shorter brother's eye level. After a few seconds, I straightened up, and repeated my assurance.

"I'm fine, bro. Everything's cool, ok?"

I expected that to be the end of it, for him to go back to his usual annoying, adorable self. To be completely honest, I still suspected him of play-acting the entire episode. What I didn't expect was for his face to screw up into an anguished expression, and his eyes to fill with tears that overflowed immediately. They ran down my hands, still on his cheeks, and soaked into my wrist wraps. Michelangelo doesn't cry much, his disposition is much too sunny. When he does give in to his emotions, his tears are like a summer shower; gentle, and over before you need an umbrella.

This was different. Deep, ugly choking noises that were almost groans were coming from him, mixed with high-pitched whines and shuddering gasps for breath. His sobbing sounded painful, like it was being dragged from his chest over broken glass. I had never, ever seen Mikey like this, and I sincerely hope I never will again. All I could do was pull him to me, and sink to my knees, folding myself around him like the shield from the world I wished I could be.

Still reeling from this unexpected breakdown, I offered the only words of comfort that I could.

"Ssh…it's okay, Mikey. Come on, come on, calm down, buddy. What's wrong? Look at me. _Look_ at me!"

He seemed beyond hearing my voice, instead burying his face in my neck and keening with this sudden, mysterious grief that had me utterly stumped. I drew him closer, and looked up at the others, panicked beyond belief. April was huddled next to her father, her hand drawn up to her mouth in an agitated gesture that spoke of both her desire to help, and her knowledge that keeping her distance was best. Raphael…poor Raph was practically vibrating with helplessness, or was it fury? His green eyes were alight with something unreadable, and as he met my eyes a snarl twisted his beak. The music, previously unnoticed, stopped abruptly as he lifted his foot and slammed it into the record player. The sudden noise made April yelp, and her father led her quickly out of the dojo. I never broke eye-contact with my most volatile brother, so I was able to see the rage on his face turn quickly to remorse. He took one long look at the turtle still shuddering in my arms, then left as swiftly as the O'Neils.

The dojo seemed bigger than ever now that the party mood had evaporated. Sensei was shut away in his rooms, Donnie had blanked me completely, and Raph had stormed out. And Mikey…

He was a little calmer now; the terrifying bout of sobbing that had gripped him earlier was now a steady flood of tears that soaked my neck. He didn't look like he was going to stop anytime soon, and the cold atmosphere of the dojo was starting to get to me. I tightened my grip around his shell, and hoisted him up over my shoulder. It was a testament to how out of it he was that he didn't utter any protest other than a slight hitch in his sobbing.

Carrying him to the living area, I noticed that here, too, was empty of any friendly presence. The door to Donnie's lab was firmly closed, and, though I could hear April and her father behind the partition in the kitchen, I didn't want to bother them. Raph was nowhere to be seen. What had I done to stir up my family this much?

Sitting in the middle of one of the long couches in front of the T.V, I settled my baby brother so that his body was lying halfway across my lap.

"Feel like telling me what's up, Mikey?"

He shook his head, hiccupping a little. Fresh tears soaked into his already saturated mask. I worked at the knot at the back of his head, and slipped the wet orange fabric off of him. Without his bandana, his blue eyes looked larger than ever, and so, so sad.

"Okay, buddy, you don't have to tell me. But you need to calm down a little. _Kimi ha Nii-chan o kowagaruseru_, _otouto_."

The slip into our native Japanese seemed to calm him slightly. He looked at me and nodded shakily. "S-sorry, Leo."

"It's okay, little brother. You're okay. Just rest."

He nodded again, and closed his sore eyes, his breath still hitching with the occasional sob. A few minutes passed while I stroked his head and arms, avoiding the bruises and small injuries he'd gotten from the battles earlier today. I thought he'd drifted off, when his voice, small and so young, startled me a little.

"Don't…don't l-leave again, Leo. Please don't."

Ah. So that's what this was about. Everything had been so crazy, I hadn't had time to consider the implications of my earlier 'heroics' at TCRI, and aboard the Kraang ship. Honestly, all that had occupied my mind at the time was, first and foremost, to make sure that my family was safe. If I had to risk myself for them to get out alive, well…that's what would have to happen. When I'd seen their smiles and embraced them after escaping the alien ship, it didn't even cross my mind that they would still be upset. We were high on the thrill of saving the world, buoyant and laughing, and I just didn't see problem festering.

I should have seen it.

A presence behind me caught my attention. I tilted my head backwards until an upside-down Raph filled my vision. He quirked a humourless grin at my position, and vaulted neatly into the sunken seating area.

"Here. Thought he might need this."

He proffered a wet face cloth, and I laid it gently over Mikey's tear-swollen eyes. Our youngest brother had fallen asleep, and didn't utter a murmur as the cool fabric landed on his face. Raphael lifted Mikey's legs and slid in next to me, settling the slumbering turtle over his lap so that he was lying on both of us.

"Thanks, Raph."

He nodded, and we sat in silence for a few moments. The fighting instinct from earlier had left him, now he just seemed very tired. From the corner of my eye, I could see him sneaking glances at me, opening his mouth to say something, and then thinking better of it. He busied himself checking a long scrape on Mikey's shin, then fidgeting with the remote. Finally, after five minutes of agitated movement, he let out a long sigh.

"He tell you what was up?"

I shook my head. "He wouldn't – _couldn't_ talk about it. But I'm starting to get a pretty good idea."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Raph seemed to let this sink in for a moment. Then, in a flash of movement that somehow didn't dislodge Mikey, he twisted, pulled back his fist, and socked me in the shoulder. _Hard_.

"Hey! Ouch, man. What was that for?!"

"For being a dork," he murmured sullenly. In a rare show of affection, he laid his head on the shoulder he'd just punched, and rested there.

"Don't do it again. You…you can't leave us like that, ever again, Leo."

Apparently done with talking, he picked up the remote, and turned on the T.V. I laid my head on his, filled with burning guilt at what my actions had done to my younger brothers.

"…Never again, Raph."

He didn't reply, but the three of us stayed in that huddle for hours.

I awoke from the doze I'd fallen into, suddenly aware that I was being watched. Focusing my bleary eyes, I eventually recognised Donatello sitting on the floor in front of me, his knees drawn up to his chin. He looked passive enough, but I could sense that my immediate-younger brother still had a bone to pick. Eventually, he picked up his head, and spoke.

"You really scared them, you know."

I looked down at our two youngest brothers. Raphael was deeply asleep, snoring gently into my ear from his position on my shoulder. Mikey had curled into a ball on my lap, his feet resting against Raph's stomach, Raph's hand holding our baby brother's ankle tightly. It was adorable, but stank of insecurity. I'd done that to them.

"…I know."

"You scared me, too."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Donnie."

His eyes clenched shut, and he hung his head. The tension between us grew to breaking point, then, all of a sudden, he let out a soft huff of laughter, and knuckled his eyes.

"You really are an idiot, Leo. I'm never letting you watch Space Heroes again. Captain Ryan is clearly a bad influence."

I smiled back at him. "Captain Ryan is a hero."

"Heroes don't go down with their ships, Leo. That's not heroics, that's…a bad contingency plan, at best."

"I suppose you're the go-to guy for contingency plans, huh, chart-boy?"

We both chuckled a little at that. Our laughter died down, and I put across my point.

"I had to get you guys out. Nothing else mattered. If anything happened to you…I…"

He interrupted me, a furious light in his eyes. "And how do you think we feel?! Tell me this, Leo. If Mikey had told us to go on without him when he was cornered by Kraang Prime, would you?"

I gritted my teeth. "Stop it."

"I mean, surely it would have made sense, logically. We would have all gotten away. That's what he would've wanted, just like you."

"No."

"No, what? You said it yourself. Nothing else mattered, but us getting out safe. I'm sure Mikey wou-"

"_STOP_!"

We both fell silent. I glanced down to see if my outburst had disturbed my slumbering brothers, but they were still deeply asleep. The mental and physical exertions of the day had worn them down so much, I doubted even a session of Sensei's _randori_ would rouse them. Donnie shifted, and drew my attention back to himself.

"So now you understand why we're upset."

I certainly did. Leaving Mikey, leaving _any_ of my brothers behind was unthinkable. It wasn't an option; I'd be destroyed if anything happened to them. No wonder they were mad at me. Perhaps my heroes were wrong. Sacrifice wasn't the way to complete a mission, even one as potentially disastrous as we had undertaken.

"…I really am sorry, Donnie. It won't…it won't happen again."

He sighed once more, then looked up at me with a brittle smile. "You can't promise that, Leo. But…thank you. Thank you for keeping us safe. Thank you for caring about us that much, big brother."

Choked up, I lowered my head, raising it only when I felt Donnie's hands on my cheeks. He touched his forehead to mine, and shook me slightly.

"You are _not_ expendable. We'd be lost without you."

He let me go and turned away, giving me a chance to dash away my tears. Whilst I was rubbing my eyes, I felt him sit heavily at my side, and draw his legs slowly up to rest on the couch next to me. Mirroring Raph's position, he laid his head on my shoulder.

"I am beyond exhausted and I don't want to haul these two to their rooms. Looks like we're crashing here tonight," he offered by way of explanation.

That was fine by me. Already, my eyelids were drooping. I was sore, battered and bruised, and I knew they were too, but I could feel the last of the tension drain away from us all. Raph and Mikey seemed to snuggle in a little closer, feeling the barrier between us shatter even in sleep. It was okay now; we had saved the world, eradicated the Kraang, rescued April, and we were together.

As my eyes drifted shut, I felt a familiar presence standing over us, voicing a pleased hum that the bond between us had been restored. The last thing I knew before I feel into a grateful sleep was the feeling of Sensei draping a blanket around us, enclosing us in a cosy bubble of togetherness.

…_I won't do that to you again. I promise_.

A/N – Agh, this just poured out of me, and I am exhausted. First TMNT fic completed, yay! I intend for this to be a series of short stories; I actually have another in the works, but Leo demanded I tell his story first.

"_Kimi ha Nii-chan o kowagaruseru_, _otouto_." – You're scaring me, little brother. (Lit – You're scaring big bro – Leo is speaking to Mikey as if he were a child.)


	2. Cabin Fever - Part 1

Cabin Fever

Summary: Feeling suffocated, April sneaks out of the Lair, and is followed by a well-meaning, blue-eyed tagalong. Really, how much trouble could they get into? Rated for violence.

A/N: Phew, this one grew into a bit of a beast. Part 2, coming soon!

_Okay…here we go. One tiny step at a time, you can do thi—UGH!_

April O'Neil cringed in horrified disgust as her bare foot landed in something cold and vaguely squishy. Feeling around with a cautious toe, she identified the object as a stray piece of pizza that had somehow escaped the feeding frenzy of her honorary brothers earlier that evening. The turtles were now spread around the faintly flickering light of the TV in various states of unconsciousness. She could see Donatello draped slightly over Raphael's shell, utterly undisturbed by the red-banded turtle's gentle snoring right next to his ear. Leonardo had fallen asleep close-by, with Michelangelo curled up next to him. She could see Leo's bandana tails waving in the breeze caused by Mikey's even breaths.

All in all, it was an adorable scene, and one that she had been part of up until five minutes ago (her place had been somewhere between Leo and Donnie). However, as much as she loved the turtles, their constant boyish presence and the crushing loneliness of the sewers had begun to weigh heavily on the redhead. Her chest ached with an anxious need to experience the sights and smells of New York City, to once again become an invisible part of the crowd.

Sneaking out was the only option, surely?

So, holding her boots in one hand in order to be as silent as possible, April had extracted herself from the turtle-huddle, and begun her painstaking trek to the lair's exit. It wasn't easy. Every tiny noise from the pile of ninja behind her caused April to freeze and force her heart to stop thudding. Finally, she vaulted near-silently over the turnstiles and bolted into the sewers, smugly congratulating herself on a job well-done whilst pulling on her boots.

She had one boot on and was starting on the other when a voice floated out of the darkness, calling her name. Screeching, she wind-milled wildly before giving in to gravity.

Fortunately, a pair of large, strong hands steadied her, and April turned to look into a pair of blue eyes.

"Geez, April, you about scared the _shell_ off of me! What are you doing, sneaking around like some kind of…bare-foot spy? Are you a spy?! Who are you working for!?"

Momentarily speechless, April stared open-mouthed at her exuberant assailant. Michelangelo's blue eyes were as round as saucers, and he was pointing a large green finger at her with a look of deep betrayal. She clapped a hand around his mouth and seized his bicep, briefly regretting the decision as the muscle tensed under her hand. However, his instinctive reaction lasted no more than a split second, and he became as docile as a reptilian ragdoll as she towed him further into the sewer tunnels that lead out of the lair. When she deemed them far enough so as not to wake the others, she bonked him soundly on the back of the head, and knelt to tug on her boots.

"Ow! What was _that_ for?!"

His voice had taken on a whining tinge that she knew would be accompanied by the puppy-eyes and quivering bottom lip that suckered in his brothers every time. _Just don't look, and you'll be fine_.

"What are you doing out here, Mikey? Just go back home."

She could tell from his slight hesitation that he was hurt by her tone. _Crud_.

"…You woke me up when you were sneaking out. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, dude. You shouldn't be heading topside on your own, y'know, Sensei'll get mad."

Well, he sure grasped the situation quickly. She had to hand it to the little guy, when it came to picking up on the emotional wellbeing of his family and friends, there was no one more talented. The amount of times he'd come to her when she had been silently brooding about her father's disappearance, brandishing a cup of strong tea and a hug, were numerous. Say what you would about Mikey; his skill for empathy was unparalleled, and that knowledge evaporated the last of her irritation with him.

She knuckled him gently on the head, much to his consternation. Striking up a conversation to distract him, she led him further down the sewer tunnels. Bound and determined as she was to get above ground, it might be nice to have some company. "How _did_ I wake you up, anyway? I was totally ninja-silent, and you were sleeping like a log!"

Sensing her mood change for the better, he grinned cheekily. "Not silent enough. You owe me a new slice of pizza!"

"I can't believe _that_ woke you up."

He nodded emphatically. "Me 'n pizza have a special connection, April! I heard it cry out for me when you squashed it under your giant foot."

She gaped at him in mock offense. "Like you can talk about 'giant feet'! My feet are normal-size, thank you."

His grin grew wider, if that was even possible. "Not to a poor defenseless slice of pizza. I think I heard its death-scream. I may never be the same again."

April rolled her eyes, then brightened as she noticed that they were approaching the metal ladder that would lead them topside. "So, what is this, a new superpower or something?"

He looked so pleased that she was playing along. "Yup! I haven't decided whether to use it for good or evil y-"

They had reached the ladder.

"April…what are you doing?"

April plastered on a reassuring grin. "We're gonna go up top."

To say that he was stunned would have been an understatement. The Shellraiser could've parked in his gaping mouth. "W...You can't go _TOPSIDE_! Are you crazy?! Leo 'n Sensei said you had to stay down here, it's not _safe_!"

"I'll be safe with you!"

"You wanna drag _me_ into this?! Huh-uh, no _way_, April! Do you know what they'd do to me if they found out?! I'd be tomorrow's pizza topping!"

She put on her most pathetic puppy-dog expression, ironically learned from Michelangelo himself. "Please, _please_, Mikey? I just need a break from the sewers, just for a little. Please?"

He drew himself up a little taller, scales ruffled from the unintended insult to his home. "What's wrong with the sewers?!"

_Ugh, apart from the obvious?_ "Nothing, Mikey, the sewers…they're great. But they're not," suddenly she found that she no longer needed to fake her sad expression. "They're not…_home_."

Mikey's expression softened slightly. Patting her slumped shoulders, his features relaxed into rare seriousness. "You really need to do this?"

She nodded, dashing a few unexpected tears from her eyes. "We could sit on a rooftop somewhere. Just…just for an hour."

She saw the exact moment he relented. Sighing dramatically, he patted her on the head. "Come on then. Just for an hour. Do you have a weapon?"

She giggled wetly. He was clearly channeling his inner Leo. "Yes, I grabbed a _tanto_ before I left."

Mikey nodded, assuming a superior expression. "Right. Okay, I'm in charge. I'm the boss. Whatever I say go—_hey_, April, not cool!"

She watched, giggling, as he adjusted the bandana she had just twisted around his face into its proper placement. The ladder felt slightly slimy under her fingers as she climbed the first few rungs. "Come on, shell-brain."

"Coming from you, that's totally discrimination, sis."

"Your brothers call you 'shell-brain' all the time!"

"They're turtles too! You're just…shell-ist!"

"Even if that was a thing, Mikey, do you really think—oh, we're at the top!"

April heaved the manhole cover open, more than slightly impressed by the new muscles Sensei's tough regime was building. She clambered out, ignoring Mikey's continued jabbering behind her, and took in the surrounding alleyway. The air was damp and full of the mixed scents of late night eateries and gasoline. She snuffled it all in gratefully.

_Home, sweet Home…_

Page Break

This…was actually pretty amazing. April had expected to sneak out for half an hour, skulk in an alleyway for fear of being seen, and then trail back to the lair. So far, with the added confidence of Mikey watching from the shadows, she had bought a caramel latte from a 24 hour coffee shop, picked up a stack of magazines, and just stood silently enjoying the fresh night air. Just so that Mikey didn't feel left out (though he took great pains to assure her that he didn't mind just watching), they swung by Murakami's noodle bar to pick up some pizza _gyoza_. The elderly man and the enthusiastic young turtle had been ecstatic to encounter each other again, and chattered rapidly in Japanese whilst the food was being prepared. April figured she caught about one word in every fifty. She was picking up the language slowly from the boys; they tended to slip into their native tongue quite often with each other.

Regrettably, she eventually had to tear Mikey away from Murakami, and they found themselves winding up on the roof of one of the smaller high-rises near to the lair. Eating pizza _gyoza_ and lying back to look up at the sky with one of your best friends by your side…it couldn't get much better. Sure, she missed the others, and the sky was hazy with smog and the lights of the city, but Mikey's exuberant mood more than made up for it.

"Ever seen the stars, April?"

"Sure. Dad and I used to go camping upstate sometimes. The light pollution is really low up there."

He gave a wistful sigh and turned on his side, hitting April with the full power of his puppy-dog eyes. "I wanna go camping!"

She ruffled his bandana tails. "I'll take you some day."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He shuffled closer to knock his head gently against hers. "Thanks, _'nee-chan_."

She knew enough Japanese to recognize the affectionate term for 'big sister', and her grin was brilliant as she sat up and drew him into a hug. He submitted to it gladly, and began to hug her back, when she felt his entire body become suddenly rigid. April had just enough time for her instincts to scream '_something's wrong—'_, before Mikey threw both of them sideways, avoiding by inches the two gleaming _shuriken_ that sliced through the now empty space. He was on his feet before she could blink, standing protectively in front of her with his _nunchaku_ spinning.

"April," he said, his tone unnaturally solemn. "I'm gonna need you to take out your T-Phone and press the big square button at the bottom. There're too many of them for us to take out alone, we need my bros."

"Too many of _who_?! What's going on?!"

But even as she hissed the words and pulled out her T-Phone, the darkness in front of them seemed to move.

"_April_! Press the button!"

She jumped slightly, and jammed her thumb into what she hoped was the correct button. A red light began to flash at the top of the custom cell, and Mikey huffed in relief.

"Awesome. Hey, I've always wanted to push that button! Donnie threatened to take my T-Phone away if I kept asking about it. Was it as cool as I thought?"

His attempts to cheer her up were thwarted as the darkness shot closer, revealing the gleam of weapons, and soulless masks.

The Foot had found them.

Page Break

There was someone screaming in the Lair.

Leo tore his eyes open and lurched to his feet, still mostly asleep. The last thing he remembered was Michelangelo cuddling into his plastron like a turtle-shaped limpet, and he cast a bleary eye down to the floor to see if he'd disturbed his little brother at all.

Mikey wasn't there anymore, and someone was screaming in the Lair.

The fog of being abruptly woken dispersed, and Leo was aware of his remaining brothers murmuring crossly as the loud screeching broke into their sleep.

"Shut the hell up," Raphael was growling at a bewildered Donatello.

"I'm not making that noise, shell-brain! That's the emergency signal."

The three of them shared a look of bemusement, then Donnie's words clicked into place.

They dived simultaneously for their T-Phones at the same time as their father raced into the room, panting with an urgency that was almost completely alien to his nature.

"Boys…where is April? Where is your brother?!"

Leo took in Sensei's tail lashing agitatedly, his ruffled fur, and his flattened ears and felt his stomach twist. He and Raph sprang towards their father just as the rat began to sway, easing him gently to the ground.

"Sensei! Sensei, what's wrong?!"

Splinter looked up at both of them, his whiskers trembling. They had never before seen the strong rat so unsettled.

"I had…a most terrible dream, Leonardo." _Glinting metal and long claws and sparks, chains and noise and red red red…_He realized that his sons were growing frantic, and placed clawed fingers on both of their cheeks. "Please, my sons. Find them. You must-"

"GOT it!" came the triumphant shout from the sunken seating area. Donnie was on his feet, waving his T-Phone in the air with a slightly manic air about him. "I've traced their signal; they aren't far. Ten blocks east."

Leo glanced at Raph; his red-banded brother was already moving, snatching up his _sai_ and sprinted for the turnstiles with Donnie. The eldest gave a last reassuring squeeze to his father's shoulder.

"We _will_ find them, Sensei. Everything will be fine."

Not waiting for a reply, Leo grabbed his _ninjato_ and sheathed them in the same movement, never breaking stride as he raced after his brothers.

Page Break

April had seen the boys fight many, many times before. They moved like a well-oiled machine; perfectly in tune with each other, always finding time to toss careless comments back and forth between them. Their grace and style was beautiful to watch, if a little stomach-turning at times. She found that, apart from the inevitable bloodshed and the danger that the turtles themselves might get hurt, she actually enjoyed watching their deadly displays.

There was nothing enjoyable about this.

Michelangelo fought like a cornered animal; brutally drawing enemy ninja into the lethal range of his _nunchaku_, and taking out the men skulking in the background with the _kusarigama_. All around April were the sounds of wood striking flesh, and the scream of the _kama_ blade on Mikey's long-range weapon splitting the air. It was obvious that he was used to the added back-up of his three older brothers; untrained as she was, April could still recognize holes in his defense. So, with a surprisingly clear mind, she loosed a wild yell and leapt into the fray. Narrowed blue eyes flashed with surprise, then gratitude as Mikey turned his attention to her for a split second. April swiped with her _tanto_ at the ninja about to land a lucky hit on the youngest turtle, and gasped hoarsely, "I got your back!"

Although they were certainly not as attuned to each other's movements as Mikey would have been with his brothers, April thought they made a pretty good team. She dispatched any ninja attempting to sneak up on her turtle brother, and in turn, he made sure that she never suffered even a scratch. For a while, it looked like they might actually _win_.

So caught up in the fight was she, April didn't realize until too late that the remaining dozen ninja were forming a strategic wall between her and Mikey. When she eventually looked up, they were somehow on opposite sides of the roof. The next few moments seemed to happen in a series of slow motion flashes that she would later dream about and wake screaming.

A large ninja sneaking up on Mikey as he took on three opponents.

The ninja was clutching something.

April cried out a warning and threw herself forward.

Pain, crippling and white hot, the glint of red-streaked metal buried above her left ankle.

Sprawling, tripping, her ankle folding beneath her, and a shriek of agony.

Mikey looking up, distracted and frightened for her.

The sound as the _tetsubo_ the huge ninja held smashed into the back of Mikey's head.

Time resumed its normal pace as April started screaming. She tried to stand, but the agony from the _shuriken_ embedded in her ankle made her legs wilt under her. Mikey was on his knees ten feet in front of her, his arms limp and his eyes dull. A snaking trickle of blood ran down his neck, bright crimson against the lime green of his skin.

"Mikey! _Mikey_!"

He didn't move. The Foot did. Two of them seized the youngest turtle under the arms, and heaved him upright, his legs twitching weakly as the ninja dragged him towards the edge of the fifteen-story building. April started violently as an opponent seized her from behind and secured her with a _manriki_ chain. She struggled hard, desperate to get to Mikey, but the ninja silently tightened his grip.

The two holding Mikey against the small wall around the edge of the rooftop appeared to be interrogating him in heavy Japanese accents.

"Where is Hamato Yoshi?"

"Where are the other turtles?"

"Answer, scum, or we will let you fall. Answer!"

It was clear that Mikey couldn't even hear the questions being asked. "St-stop, stop it!" April found herself crying out. "He doesn't even understand, just let him go!"

The two ninja exchanged a look. April glanced desperately at Mikey, and to her relief found him a little more alert. Blue eyes caught hers and held…

…just as his opponents heaved him up, and over the edge of the roof.

The scream that ripped free from April felt as though it tore her vocal chords apart. Sobbing and struggling with crazed, frenzied movements, she barely felt the kick her captor aimed at her ribs. However, the gurgling sound the ninja made as a _shuriken_, embossed with the symbol of the Hamato clan, buried itself in his neck broke through the maelstrom of grief that encompassed her. Dazed and still whimpering violently, April looked up as another deadly projectile found its mark. Three shadowed figures melted out of the darkness, and immediately engaged the enemy clan.

Michelangelo's brothers had arrived.

Page Break

Crushing a final Foot ninja's windpipe with a ruthlessness that he usually shied away from, Donatello put a swift end to his part of the battle, and noticed with satisfaction that his brothers had dispatched their opponents as well. He spun around and raced to April's kneeling form, checking her for any injuries. Apart from the severely sprained and bleeding ankle he discovered when he eased off her left boot, her wounds seemed superficial.

He heard Leo come up from behind him. "April, where's Mikey?!"

Donnie's heart dropped to his stomach as April's crying intensified, her words broken and muffled by sobs.

"He's…they…o-over…_over_…!"

Raphael had joined them by this time, and his anxiety got the better of him. Ignoring Donatello's sharp protest, he seized April by the shoulders, and barked "Over _WHERE_!?"

She looked to their left, toward the edge of the roof where the broken lights had bred creeping shadows. Her voice was shrill as she told them.

"They…t-they pushed him _over_!"

Sour bile hurtled up from Donatello's stomach, and he heard Leonardo drop to his knees behind him. The building was fifteen stories high. No-one, not even a mutated ninja, could survive a fall like that. Over the rushing whine building in his ears, Donnie heard Raph lurch toward the edge of the building himself. Suddenly electrified by the thought that another brother was going to fall, he hauled himself to his feet and staggered to Raph's side. It was impossible to see through the unlit gloom to the ground below them, but Raphael was peering furiously over the edge.

"I can't see him," he said in a low, frantic mutter. "We need to get _down_ there, he's hurt and we need to help him, you need to help him, Donnie."

Donatello's teeth sank into his bottom lip as he suppressed a howl of grief. Raph was still convinced that their brother lived, despite the height of his fall. He couldn't let Raphael go down there and…and see. He placed a quaking hand on his brother's shell.

"I…I'll go and h-help him. You st-stay here with April in case there're any more Foot, okay?" The clan name tasted like poison as it pushed past his numb lips. _I'll kill you_, he vowed silently. _I'll bury my baby brother, and then I will rip you all apart._

He turned and sprinted toward the fire escape on the other side of the roof, dimly noticing Leo ghosting him silently. He was immeasurably grateful for his eldest brother's presence as he passed April and noticed that she was clutching one of Mikey's _nunchaku_ to her chest like a lifeline. Leo's hand on his shell was the only thing that kept him from collapsing.

A/N: Ain't I a stinker? Part 2 coming soon.


	3. Cabin Fever - Part 2

The fifteen story climb down the building's fire escape was simultaneously the fastest and slowest thing Leonardo had ever done. Time seemed to melt away from him as he drew closer and closer to the discovery of his baby brother's corpse, yet he acknowledged every rough step that he took in absurd detail.

His sweating hands kept slipping off of the buckled metal railing. He gasped every time.

The pattern of the rust on the seventy-eighth step looked like a dancing elephant. Mikey would've giggled at that.

Donatello was sobbing.

Leo wanted to shout at him and tell him to stop, but they were ninja, and they had to be silent, even when their baby brother was dead.

He ran faster instead.

After it seemed like both a split second and an eternity had slid by, Leo's feet hit cold concrete, and he cast his eyes desperately around the gloomy alley. A glint of metal caught his gaze. His little brother's _kusarigama_ lay on the ground, unspooled and carelessly arranged in loose coils. The sickle was snapped into two pieces and showed signs of great trauma. Leo's breath froze in his throat as he noticed a dark shape sprawled in the lazy embrace of the broken weapon.

"_MICHELANGELO_!"

He hadn't noticed that he had sprung towards the still form of his baby brother until a sharp cry from Donatello halted his movement.

"Don't touch him!"

Leo's knees stung beneath his kneepads from his frantic slide across the concrete, and one hand was frozen in the middle of being carelessly flung toward Michelangelo. He shuffled backwards slightly, his eyes swimming as he raised them to Donatello.

Incredibly, Donatello _smiled_.

"Listen, Leo. _Listen_."

Leonardo obeyed. Over the sounds of his own thumping heart, he could hear a strange hitching, snuffling noise. It was shallow and thin, but it was unmistakable. His heart leapt with a joy so fierce it was almost painful, and he exhaled shakily alongside the wild sound of Donatello's suddenly renewed cries.

"He's _alive_, Leo…Leo!"

Feeling weaker than he ever had in his life, Leo just stared.

* * *

By a supreme force of will, Donatello managed to silence his sobbing and kneel carefully next to his baby brother, setting his T-Phone next to them for more light. He extended trembling hands towards Michelangelo's neck, and oh-so-gently felt for his pulse. It was slower than he was comfortable with, and slightly unsteady. However, he could feel no abnormalities in Mikey's neck, or the top of his spine, which relieved him greatly. A broken neck leading to paralysis had been Donatello's main fear after he had discovered that Mikey was alive.

More distressingly, his probing fingers encountered a good deal of blood at the back of Michelangelo's head. Further investigation revealed a nasty, swollen tear in his baby brother's skin. Donnie grimaced, whilst simultaneously knowing that it could have been so much worse.

"How do you always manage to get knocked in the head, hmm?" he murmured sadly. "You're gonna end up even sillier than you already are."

He stroked a finger down his brother's pallid face, and grinned brightly when he was rewarded with a flinch.

"Hey, can you hear me, Mikey?" he coaxed. "Come on, now, you've got us all worried sick."

Donnie looked up at Leo, who hadn't said anything (nor, indeed, moved any closer) since his initial frantic outburst. His navy blue eyes were fixed on their youngest brother, and glazed with something Donatello vaguely recognized as shock. He couldn't blame his brother. None of them had ever been in this much danger before, after all.

"Leo."

A violent shudder shook Leonardo's kneeling frame as he dragged haunted eyes to Donatello. Don pulled his expression into something he hoped was encouraging. "You can come closer if you want, now. I don't think he's injured his spine at all, which is a miracle considering…considering the fall he took."

Silently, Leo shuffled forwards until he was at Michelangelo's side. He lifted a hand uncertainly, obviously unsure of where he could touch his baby brother without causing any additional damage. Eventually, he settled on placing his hand lightly on Mikey's plastron, and took a deep breath.

When no words were forthcoming, Donnie turned his attention back to his little brother and started speaking aloud his diagnosis, partly to fill the unnatural silence, but mostly to organize his racing thoughts.

"The head trauma is our biggest concern, but I can't feel any fractures in his skull, which is great, obviously. Left shoulder is dislocated, left wrist is either fractured or badly sprained. Both hands and feet are terribly abraded. Judging from these injuries, and the damage to the weapon itself, he used the _kusarigama_ to slow his fall to a non-lethal speed. That would mean that he got the head injury in the fight with the Foot. Multiple superficial lacerations from their weapons. Scrapes and bruises." His bandana creased as an affectionate smile made its way onto his face.

"Looks like you fought like a tiger, little bro," he said with immense pride. "Thank you…for keeping her safe."

Unable to say more around the lump in his throat, Donnie continued to put temporary dressings on the worst of Mikey's injuries. He almost jumped out of his shell when Leo's rasping voice broke into the unobtrusive background music of snipping gauze and Mikey's shallow sighs.

"He shouldn't have had to take on the Foot alone. We…we should've been here to help them."

Momentarily stunned by the self-loathing in his brother's voice, it took a few seconds for Donatello to formulate a response. "He wasn't alone. By the looks of things, April took a few down. And we were asleep when they snuck out, Leo. There wasn't a lot we could've done."

Leo slammed his free hand into the concrete, his breaths coming in short staccato pants that sounded worryingly like hyperventilation. "We're _NINJA_, Donatello, and we let a rookie _kunoichi _and our little brother sneak out and almost get themselves _killed_. I can think of a few things we 'could've done'!"

Brown eyes narrowing dangerously, Donnie leaned carefully over the prone form of his baby brother and, not so carefully, slapped his big brother across the face. Leo reeled backwards, unhurt but startled, and finally moved his gaze from Mikey to look into Donatello's furious expression.

"Mikey is a good ninja. April is no slouch, either. If they didn't want to be heard, we wouldn't have heard them, simple as that. They're both still alive, so stop with the guilt trip, because you're distracting me from keeping him that way." He returned to his first-aid duties. Leo's breathing slowed, and the tension left him in a long exhale.

"…sorry Donnie."

"That's fine, bro. Wanna help m—"

His offer to Leo was interrupted by an almost inaudible _thump_ from the direction of the fire escape. Leo leapt seamlessly into a defensive stance standing over Mikey. Don's reactions were a split second slower as he whipped his _bo_ up behind his big brother's _ninjato_, but his protective intent was no less deadly. They relaxed a moment later as they recognized the hunched form of Raphael exiting the shadows with April draped over his shell. She was still crying, her sobs muffled as she curled around his carapace. Their hotheaded brother's pace quickened as he caught sight of their small huddle, and the expression of distressed increased dramatically as he caught sight of his baby brother.

Raph, ironically, had never been good with the sight of blood, Donatello remembered. Especially when it belonged to his family.

"M-!"

Biting off the cry of Mikey's name with a visible effort, Raphael sprinted the last few feet and skidded to a halt. He turned burning eyes to his brothers, visibly distressed and trembling hard.

"Is he…is…is-"

Donatello wasted no time moving around Leo's shell to seize Raph by the shoulders, narrowly avoiding poking poor April in the eye.

"It's ok, buddy, he's alive. Calm down, Raph. Don't…"

For Raphael had slumped in boneless relief at his brother's reassurance, a high-pitched sob catching somewhere in his chest. April buried her face into his neck, and Raph reached up a clumsy hand to grip the one she was using to hold on to his shell.

Giving them a sad, but ultimately resigned look (they were useless for now, and he had more pressing concerns), Donnie moved back to crouch over his youngest brother. "Leo, I'm pretty sure it'll be safe to move him now. I've wrapped the worst of his injuries, but we need to be careful. The abrasions to his hands and feet must, under no circumstances, come into contact with any sewer water. The chance for infection is quite high, and I'd rather not risk it."

Leo nodded, his expression marginally less tragic that it had been earlier. He motioned with his hands.

"Give him to me. I'll take him."

Though Donnie himself would've been the more logical choice given his greater height, he recognized the look on Leo's face. Arguing would be a waste of time. Sighing gustily, he carefully maneuvered Mikey into his arms, and stood with a grunt of exertion. Leo turned so that his back was facing them, and Donnie draped his unconscious brother over the presented shell as gently as he could. Leo took the precious burden without a word of complaint; making sure Mikey's injured hands were resting over his shoulders, and holding him securely under his legs. Gathering the huddled forms of Raphael and April, Donnie led them to the nearest manhole cover, and into the dank security of the sewers.

* * *

April had finally stopped crying, Raphael noticed, and was now curled limply over his shell as if all her strings had been cut. He could understand how she felt; he was _exhausted_. Her weight wasn't a problem, although getting them both down into the sewers through a manhole cover hadn't exactly been a picnic. No, their current pathetic state was down to the immense relief that Mikey _wasn't dead_, he was gonna be ok. Not now, not for a while, but soon. That was fine. He could live with that.

Raph's two older brothers were slightly ahead of him and April, but he could still hear snatches of their muttered conversation.

"…_watch…don't let…feet, Leo…_"

"…_hear…not…moron_!"

"_No-one said…thing…moron! I…on, is…waking up?_ Stop!"

Donnie's last word had been loud, and there was a quiet whimpering sound making itself known in the stale air of the sewers. Leo and Don screeched to a halt up ahead, and Leo allowed his purple-masked brother to slip Michelangelo off of his shell. Raph caught up with them just as they knelt in the muck and rested a squirming Mikey across both of their knees.

"Mikey," Donnie was calling. "Mikey, can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can."

They all leaned over him as his beak scrunched up, whether in pain or concentration, it was impossible to tell. Then, miraculously, two slivers of dazed blue appeared, and a slurred, almost unrecognizable voice spoke.

"Donnnnnn…ie?"

Raph watched as poor Don lost any composure he'd been holding onto, bending low over Mikey and cupping his freckled cheek. "Yeah. Yeah, it's me, buddy. What have you done to yourself, huh?"

Mikey's eyes swam aimlessly as they tried to focus on Donnie. "Dunnnno…hurtsss…" he mumbled.

"Did you guys…steal my feet?"

Raph's heart lurched, and he stole a glance at Don. "He can't feel his feet?" he hissed.

Donnie's gaze didn't leave his littlest brother. "There may be some nerve damage, or he's just out of it," he said quietly. Then, raising his voice slightly, "Mikey, your feet are still there, no-one stole them, okay?"

"Good…tell them…April was the one who…who trod on the pizza…"

Raph's breath quickened again, but April let out a surprising, huff of laughter against his neck. "We were talking about that earlier," she clarified.

He huffed. "So he hasn't completely lost it."

Leo abruptly broke the silence he had maintained since Mikey came round, his voice slightly distorted by his clenched jaw.

"Mikey. What the _hell_ did you think you were doing?"

Raph and Donnie's eyes shot to their trembling older brother.

"…Leo, don't-"

"You could've gotten both you and April _killed_! What were you thinking!?"

Mikey's expression fell into sad confusion. "S-sorry Leo…"

"Leo, he doesn't even know why you're mad. And it wasn't his fault. I made him come with me."

April's voice was stern, but wobbled on her last sentence. Raph shifted his head back slightly so it bumped against hers, a comforting gesture, but one he hoped wasn't noticed by his brothers.

He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

Leo held April's gaze for a moment, then exhaled noisily and looked back at Mikey, who was gazing up at him with anxious, wandering eyes.

"It's okay. I'm not mad at you, little brother. You j-just scared me, that's a-all." His voice broke, and he pressed his forehead gently to the small turtle's. "I was so s-scared."

Distressed, Mikey tried to lift his hand up to comfort Leo, but was gently restrained by Donnie. Instead, he nuzzled weakly against his big brother's face. "Don't…sad, Leo, don't…"

Sniffing hard, Donatello bumped his shoulder against his older brother's. "We need to get him home."

Leo nodded, and together they heaved a semi-conscious Mikey up between them. Raphael felt sure that he jostled April uncomfortably during their speedy flight back to the lair, but she didn't complain once. Instead, she curled close to his neck.

Raphael pretended he didn't feel her guilty tears.

A/N: One more wrap-up chapter to go!


	4. Cabin Fever - End

Being jostled against Raph's shell didn't exactly help her sore muscles, or the _excruciating_ feeling of the _shuriken_ embedded in her ankle, but it was better than dwelling on the fact that she had nearly gotten Mikey killed. Raph was practically flying after his brothers, close enough on their tails that she could hear the gasps and whimpers the youngest turtle was making. Donatello had assured them that he had discovered no evidence of spinal injury on Mikey and that it was safe to move him at some speed, but it must have still been overwhelmingly uncomfortable for him.

So lost was she in listening out for the littlest of the Hamato clan, she only realized they had reached home when she heard Sensei's voice, low and frantic.

"Michelangelo!"

April looked up as the large rat darted to the two sons cradling his youngest. Splinter, for the first time since she had met him, looked at a loss. His ears were flat against his head, his muzzle drawn up in something that looked like a snarl as he scented the air. His tail lashed in what April could only assume was agitation at the smell of blood.

"How…how did this happen?"

His tone was dangerous, but his paw was gentle as he laid it on Mikey's forehead. April opened her mouth to answer her sensei, but recoiled as his burning copper eyes met hers. Thankfully a small, wavering voice spared her explanation.

"F-Father…"

Master Splinter whipped around and knelt before his injured son. "Michelangelo. My son, I am here. Father is here."

He moved his hand until it was resting on his youngest son's freckled cheek, mindful of the scratches and bruises littering the lime green skin. There he rested, maintaining an aura of serenity as he gazed at the bleary-eyed turtle.

"Sen…sei…"

"Hush now, Michelangelo. Everything is alright. Your brothers and April are all unharmed," he said in response to Mikey's anxious blue-eyed gaze wandering around the room. "You must rest. Donatello."

"H-hai, Sensei?"

Splinter gave one final caress to Mikey's cheek, then stood with a sense of purpose. "Please treat Michelangelo's wounds to the best of your ability. Leonardo, kindly assist your brother. Raphael, set April down on the couch, then join your brothers. I will take care of April."

April's eyes widened. 'Take care' of her? What was Sensei going to do? Raph didn't seem to share her worries, as he gave her hair a gentle ruffle after he had placed her on one of the couches in the sunken area. She desperately wanted to ask him to stay, but he was already bolting after the slower forms of his brothers, who were carrying Mikey into the sterile environment of Donnie's workroom. She stared after them, longing to be with them still, and simultaneously terrified to see the true extent of Mikey's wounds. Yet another tear dripped mournfully down her face, sliding a salty trail down the side of her nose and resting, quivering, on her chin.

This wasn't supposed to have happened. She was supposed to go topside for an hour at most, then sneak back and slot in once more to the turtle-pile. Her brothers were supposed to be curled up together, sleeping peacefully, not fighting to save the life of their littlest member. The tears came faster.

"T-this…this is m-my fault."

A deep voice answered her, startling her terribly and making her hiss at the jolt to her ankle.

"I wouldn't say that. Both of you were foolish." Sensei approached, carrying a basin of steaming water in both hands, with first aid supplies tucked under his arm. He knelt at her feet and gently picked up her foot, wincing in sympathy at the embedded _shuriken_. He began to wash around the metal with a warm, damp cloth that smelled of disinfectant. It hurt, badly, but April was more concerned with Master Splinter's words.

"You should not have disobeyed my orders, April. Now you see why I was anxious to keep you safe down here. Michelangelo should have seen to it that you did not go up to the surface."

"But I p-practically _forced_ him-"

Sensei held up a hand. "If he had thought a little more, he would have woken his brothers, or myself, to talk the matter through with you. However, Michelangelo has an inherent need to keep his family happy, one that I have spoken to him about on many occasions. That is his nature, though he does not

realize the personal risk. I am…" here, he paused again, ears flattened, head bowed. "I am…_unhappy_ with the two of you. But, more than that, I am angry at myself.

"You did not choose this life, April. I have forced it upon you, for your own safety, but nonetheless, you are unused to the sewers. You are unhappy. I am sorry that I did not realize this. I am sorry that it took such extreme action for me to realize."

He looked up at her, copper eyes swimming with emotion. "I am sorry, my child."

Stunned, April could do nothing as he gathered her into his arms. She was motionless for a few seconds,

and then flung her arms around him, burying her face into the soft, worn folds of his _yukata_.

"I was s-so frightened, Sensei!" she wailed. The entire story came pouring out of her; the trip to the surface, the visit to Mr. Murakami, the rooftop fight, everything. "He…he was so brave," she finished. " And…and I screamed, and they hit him and they _threw him over_!"

He hushed her, careful to avoid her injured ankle as he rocked them back and forth. "Hush now, child. It was a terrifying experience, but my son is alive. He would have been overpowered far sooner if you had given in to your fear and not helped him. I am proud of you both."

He gave her one last nuzzle, and sat her back. "Now, dry your tears, and we will take care of your ankle."

* * *

The table in Don's lab looked cold, sterile, and altogether unpleasant to lay his injured brother on. Leonardo grasped Mikey a little tighter as Don threw an old sheet over the table, and startled slightly as Raph cleared his throat meaningfully.

Don looked up, indignant. "What? It's clean!"

Thankfully, Raph threw up his hands and checked his attitude. Leo heaved his half-conscious brother up on to the table, and then hopped up himself, allowing Mikey to lean heavily on his shoulder.

"This okay, Donnie?" he queried.

"Mm? Oh, yeah. Just try and keep him awake. I don't want him going to sleep before I've X-rayed his skull."

Raphael raised an incredulous eyeridge. "Lemme guess. You have an app for that?"

"Hmm. Oh. No, I built my own. Once you strip 'em down, the Kraang tech has some pretty useful components. I managed to salvage the Kraang equivalent of a 30kV power supply, then it was simple to tune up an old X-ray tube-"

Leo's voice saved them from what was likely an incomprehensible blast of science. "Donnie, hurry it up. He's not doing so good over here."

Donatello moved seamlessly from tech-enthusiast to competent doctor in seconds, and twisted on his heel. Michelangelo was leaning more heavily against Leo, his lower lip quivering and big, glossy tears filling his eyes. As his big brothers looked on in horror, he sniffled, and the floodgates opened.

"Mikey! What's wrong? Calm down, buddy," Leo attempted to make himself heard over the loud sobbing, but didn't make much headway. He and Raph went into panic mode, fearing that their baby brother was taking an extreme turn for the worse. Thankfully, Donnie stepped in. Cupping Mikey's face gently in his hands, he shined a penlight into his brother's eyes, and winced.

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. Grade three concussion. That's why he's crying, guys, he can't help it. Happens sometimes with bad head injuries."

He released Mikey, who cuddled back into Leo. Raph shuffled indecisively, then joined them on the table, patting Mikey on the knee and getting a watery smile in response.

The rest of the examination passed in a blur for Leo, as he himself was exhausted from the physical and emotional upheaval of the night. Later, he would recall how scary Donatello's homemade X-ray machine looked as his younger brother positioned it over Mikey, the relief as Don confirmed that there was no skull fracture, just a bad concussion, and stitched the bloody wound.

He remembered all too clearly the way Mikey had whimpered when Don began to clean his injured hands, and the outright scream when the dislocated shoulder had been set. Their baby brother had wilted against Raphael when his wrist was set, but Donnie declared it for the best.

"To be honest, it'd be better for him to get some rest while I'm treating him. Now that I've ascertained that he doesn't have a skull fracture, it's safe to let him sleep." Donnie explained, moving on to clean and wrap Mikey's feet. "One of us will need to stay with him. I should probably-" he noticed the stony expressions on the faces of his brothers, and grinned ruefully.

"Or, y'know, we can all camp out in here tonight."

* * *

"…and we used to set up pretty far in, but then Dad got us lost and I thought we were gonna die…"

….

"…never put up a tent before, and the whole thing collapsed on us at 2 a.m.…."

….._what_?

"…I swear, I never looked at a hotdog the same way…"

…_Who_?

"…promise, just wake up, we'll go wherever you want…"

_Who's talking?_

"Mikey. Please. Please, wake up now. _Please_."

_That…that's April! April, why are you so sad? Don't be sad, I'm…_

_I'm waking…up…_

"Ungh…"

Pain, sharp and dull, throbbing and burning, washing over him in waves. A voice, anxious, fading in and out like the old radio Donnie would let him play with sometimes. A hand, warm and soft, settling on his forearm and stroking gently, up and down, up and down…

"A—April…"

Michelangelo cracked open one eye with a huge effort, and peered unsteadily at the blob that sounded like April. He could just about make out her red hair and yellow sweatshirt, and her voice kept fading into an unintelligible buzz. He caught one word repeated several times.

"Sorry…Mikey, I…so sorry…"

Mikey had no idea why she was sorry, but, "…okay…it's okay, April..."

Something warm and heavy fell onto his plastron, shaking and raining little drops of water on him. He tried to lift a hand to feel what it was, but the ringing in his ears reached a crescendo and everything faded out again.

It seemed like a brief blink, but the next time he opened his eyes, there was light gently illuminating his surroundings. It seemed like someone had lit dozens of candles, throwing a soft glow onto the various pieces of equipment in Donnie's lab.

_Wait, Donnie's lab?_

As unusual an occurrence as it was to actually _be_ in Donatello's lab, let alone wake up there, Mikey didn't feel alarmed. His head was clearer than it had been in a while, and he could feel the sort of heavy numbness in his body that told him he'd suffered an injury of some kind. He thought back.

_Were we on another Kraang hunt? Did I get nailed? Wow, I hope everyone else is okay!_

His attention was drawn to a small snoring sound to his right. Sitting up was _so_ not an option right now, so Mikey flicked his eyes to the side and saw a sleeping April resting her head on the table. She had her hand on his, and she looked exhausted. Concerned, Mikey tried to lift his left hand to give her a gentle shake, and gasped as an electric jolt of pain tweaked from his wrist up to his shoulder. He must have whimpered aloud, because the lights in the lab suddenly brightened, and he could hear Donnie's voice calling to him through the buzzing in his ears.

"—key? Mikey, buddy, don't try to move, okay? Just stay still, I'll give you some more painkillers right now. Man, I leave you for two minutes…"

Squinting through the black dots eating up his vision, Mikey managed to gasp, "Donnie…?"

He was rewarded by the sight of the familiar gap in Donatello's teeth as his big brother grinned broadly. "Hey, little brother. Let's check you over, okay? If you've messed up your stitches trying to move like that, I'll kick your shell."

"Seems like…someone…beat you to it, bro…"

Donnie's snort took the sting away from the needle being inserted into the crook of Mikey's elbow, though he still grimaced as it was taken out. "Dude, I hate needles…"

"Then it's a good thing you were out of it when I stitched up your head. Fifteen stitches. Thorough job, Mikey."

Mikey's eyes widened, and he gently disentangled his un-casted hand from April's in order to gingerly probe the back of his head, much to Donnie's displeasure. He could feel a thick bandage taped over the bumpy texture of a stitched wound.

"Wow. What…Donnie, what happened?"

Donatello's eye ridges creased slightly as he pulled a chair up next to the table Mikey was laid out on. "You don't remember?" He asked, sitting down with a wince that spoke of sore muscles. "You and April left the lair because she was feeling down, and you got-"

"—Ambushed by the Foot!" Mikey finished. "Jeez, yeah, I remember now, dude. That big guy totally clobbered me with a _tetsubo_, the jerk. And someone hit April with—April! Is she ok, Donnie?! Tell me she's okay!"

"She's fine," spoke a new voice, interrupting Donnie as he began to answer and causing him to roll his eyes. Leo hurried into the room, agitation making him clumsier than Mikey had ever seen him. The sound of the tray of metal instruments his older brother knocked over in his haste to be by his side made Mikey squeeze his eyes shut as it reverberated through his injured skull.

"Sorry, sor—agh, Donnie, I said I was sorry!"

"Graceful as a ballerina, arent'cha Leo?" Though Mikey didn't open his eyes, he would recognize Raph's 'Let's Annoy Leo!' voice anywhere. He felt two more warm presences gather at his left side, and cracked his eyes partially open to see all three of brothers next to him. He looked properly, and saw that, although they were all smiling down at him, their faces were tense and their eyes unhappy.

"A-are you guys okay?" He asked tentatively. The question made them exhale in a whoosh of breath, and Raph laughed shakily, knuckling his eyes with one hand and placing the other on Mikey's plastron.

"'Are you guys okay?' he says! Mikey, do you have any idea what we've been going through the past two days, waiting for your sorry butt to wake up? We just managed to get Sensei to go to bed, Donnie's been working practically non-stop, Spike's off his feed-"

"April hasn't left your side for more than five minutes," Leo said, rolling his eyes at Raph's inclusion of Spike. "She feels like it's all her fault, no matter what we tell her."

Mikey looked sadly at his human friend, then did a double take back to Raph. "Wait, two _days_?!"

"Yes. You suffered a pretty bad concussion, not to mention a large amount of physical trauma to your extremities. Your body put itself into a sort of 'suspended state' so that it could heal the worst of the dama-"

"Yeah, thank you, Donatello. What he's saying, Mikey, is that you're lucky to be alive." Leo's voice was deliberately stern, but the façade broke as his face crumpled. "We really thought…we thought you were dead, Mikey. When I came down that fire escape and saw you laying there, I…it was the worst, t-the worst thing…"

It was hard, seeing Leo sad and not being able to give him a hug. Mikey felt his own eyes welling up, and, with his voice catching in his throat, spoke to his brothers.

"I'm sorry, guys. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, it's just…April, she was sad, a-and I wanted her to be happy, b-but the f-Foot came and…"

He started to sob quietly, overcome by the shock of being ambushed and waking up two days later in pain.

"A-and I was s-so s-scared, I didn't want a-April to get hurt, but there were so _many_, and I'm so s-sorry…!"

His brothers barreled into him as gently as they could manage; Leo cradled his head, Raph threw his arms around Mikey's plastron, and Donnie softly stroked his heavily bandaged feet. They had always huddled together when they were feeling unhappy; it had been that way ever since their infancy. Through his own tears, he could hear the muffled sobs of his big brothers, and realized just how desperate the situation had been.

"I'm so sorry, guys," he whispered once more, and they squeezed him a little tighter. Eventually, they separated, and saw April looking at them with a fond smile.

"A-April!" came the mortified yelp from both Raphael and Donatello, the latter blushing fiercely. April just laughed, and hugged Mikey herself, brushing off Leo's protestations that she should be resting her ankle with a muttered "I'm fine."

Two sets of blue eyes locked, and April and Mikey were silent for a long moment, drinking in the sight of each other alive and (relatively) safe. Then April's face broke into a giant grin.

"Hey, you," she said, wiping away his tears and placing a sisterly peck on his forehead. "Thank you…_so_ much, for protecting me. And I'm so sor-"

"It's okay," he replied, interrupting her apology. "You don't need to be sorry, '_nee-chan_. There's nothing to be sorry about, okay?"

April stared at him, her eyes wide. Then, she visibly relaxed, and palmed his freckled cheek with a gentle smile. "Okay."

Hugely relieved, Michelangelo let the yawn building up in his chest escape, much to the amusement of his brothers. The painkillers Donnie had given him earlier were dragging him down into a comfortable, warm cocoon, and now that the air had been cleared, he was more than happy to let them. The low, murmured conversation around him was a huge comfort, especially when a new, dearly familiar voice added itself to the mix.

The last thing Mikey felt before succumbing to a healing sleep was a whiskery snout nuzzling gently against his.

"Welcome back, my son."

A/N:Seriously, this fic was supposed to be about 2000 words. I don't even know what happened. But we're finally done with this little section! I am very much enjoying paddling in a fic-pool with the turtles!


	5. Tunnel 49 - Prologue

A/N:__This short story will be a TMNT/Supernatural crossover. I wanted to read one, but I couldn't really find many. So, I decided to write my own! Sorry, Michelangelo-centric again! I love the little guy.

Prologue.

_Excerpt from the diary of Hamato Yoshi, 23__日__, 9__月__._

_In three days' time, we shall be experiencing a rather significant event in our home.__It has been almost two years since my sons and I were exposed to the mysterious substance that forever altered our bodies, and our lives. I have taken to calling this anniversary 'Mutation Day' in order to create a little celebration for my children (as I am naturally unaware of the precise date of their birth). The boys seem rather taken with the idea, particularly Michelangelo, who has requested "cake, Daddy, cake!" I do not know from where he has obtained the knowledge that special events are to be accompanied by cake (though I suspect the television may be to blame), but the other boys were soon whipped in to a frenzy as well. How am I to procure cake from the materials provided by a sewer?_

_Excerpt from the diary of Hamato Yoshi, 24__日__, 9__月__._

_I believe I have 'bitten off more than I can chew', as the expression goes. My sons remain overexcited, and ask me near constantly when the party will commence. Today, I have taken them to a place that has often soothed their rambunctiousness in the past._

_I happened upon the tunnel close to the time that we were newly mutated. Still reeling from my sudden dash into the sanctuary of the sewers, I had taken my new children for a walk to calm our nerves. With the infants squalling and my patience fraying, I almost didn't notice the patch of sunlight that I had stumbled into. A damaged grate above my head looked onto a lonely, thickly wooded area that I could only assume belonged to Central Park. Some vegetation, sustained by the damp atmosphere, had even made its home in the tunnel itself, creeping along the concrete walls, and softening the ground. The whole area smelt a little odd, particularly with my newly heightened senses, but that was not so unusual in a sewer. There was a dilapidated sign on the wall that read '49'._

_I digress. My sons are now old enough to play on their own in Tunnel 49 as I sit under the damaged grate. I like to feel the sun. It is a luxury that I may no longer indulge in as I please, and such times are precious to me. I could hear the boys laughing together and chattering in a mixture of the Japanese I have been teaching them as their first language, and a few words of English gained from the television. The sound was soothing, my children were happy. A comfortable heaviness sunk into my limbs as I drifted into a doze._

_I was awoken some time later by a heavy _'thump'_ upon my lap. Blinking down at the miscreant, I identified a sleepy Raphael attempting to burrow into my yukata. Leonardo and Donatello were curled up at my sides, fast asleep. The light emitting from the grate had changed to the sorrowful gold of an early autumn sunset, and the temperature was dropping fast. Gathering my sleepily protesting children into my arms (thankfully, they are still small enough that I may do so), I called softly for Michelangelo. My youngest is apt to wander if given the inattention with which to do so, though he never goes far, preferring the comfort and safety of his older brothers. However, this time, I was alarmed to find that no sound of tiny toddling feet answered my call._

"_Raphael," I addressed the son that wasn't currently missing or napping in my arms. "Where is Michelangelo?"_

_He blinked up at me, green eyes unconcerned. "Mikey sit ova' dere," he said, pointing to a branch splitting the tunnel in two. The sunlight had receded from the smaller tunnel, creating clinging shadows and a deep sense of abandonment. My ears flattened instinctively against my head, but I dismissed the foreboding feeling as that of a paranoid father._

"MIKEEEEEY!" _Raphael's call startled me. Perhaps he sensed the sudden urgency that the side tunnel evoked in me. "Come out now!"_

_Shushing my son before he woke his brothers, I descended further into the tunnel. The three in my arms shivered a little as the air became noticeably cooler away from the dying sunlight, but I could hear a faint little voice in the distance. I broke into a run, the jogging movement waking Donatello and Leonardo, who began to whimper._

"_Sorry, little ones, I am sorry—MICHELANGELO!"_

_The sight of my youngest filled me with such great joy, I did not even question his cross-legged seat in front of the curved, brick wall of the tunnel. He was chattering away intently, and seemed unaware of my calls._

"_What you name? Dat p'etty…I Mikey! I p'etty too? Why you in dere?"_

_It seemed as though he was having a conversation with somebody. The content made me smile a little; 'pretty' was Michelangelo's word of choice these past few weeks. I knelt next to my youngest son, shushing the older three who were whimpering against my clothes._

"_Who are you talking to, Michelangelo?"_

_He jumped in surprise and turned to face me, breaking into a smile. "Daddy, da lady in da wall!" He said this with no small amount of admonishment._

"_There is no lady in the wall, my son. Come, let Daddy take you home." I reached out to take him into my arms, and the tiniest flinch from his small frame startled me. He seemed to shake it off, and took my hand quite willingly. I hissed with shock._

"_My son, you are frozen! Here," I scooped him up and popped him inside my yukata, against the fur of my chest. I had to get my little ones back home._

_Excerpt from the diary of Hamato Yoshi, 25__日__, 9__月__._

_I have thought of a good plan. Since algae and worms (the boys' staple diet) are plentiful in the sewers, I shall attempt to mould them into the shape of a traditional birthday cake. I know that I have many small taper candles in stock (the electricity in our home cannot be trusted, and is liable to go off at will), so I will put one on top. _

_I must admit, even I am affected by the festive atmosphere surrounding my sons! Later, when I have put them to bed, I will string the paper chains that I have made about the kitchen. _

_I hear my sons' overexcited squealing from the living room. I think it is time for lunch._

…_._

_I fear that Michelangelo has caught a slight chill from sitting in the cold tunnel for so long. The poor boy was quite uninterested in the lunch I set before him; he merely turned up his nose and demanded to be held. I made a compromise with him; I would hold him in my lap if he let me spoon-feed him a little algae. Even with my help, he ate very little, and seemed more interested in getting closer to my fur by cuddling into my clothes. I gave the remainder of his meal to Raphael._

_After lunch, I settled the boys in together for their afternoon nap. Thankfully they still fit in the same little bed. Soon, I will have to see about making three more._

_Michelangelo seemed content to cuddle with Donatello in place of me, but the poor thing was shivering, and sniffling plaintively. I plucked him from the cot and placed him in between Donatello and Leonardo, whereupon he immediately tried to snuggle as close as he could. Donatello looked at me, eyes shining with as much solemnity as a two-year old could muster, and announced, "Daddy, Mikey _vewy_ cold!"_

"_Yes, Donatello, he is not feeling well. Perhaps you might give him a cuddle to warm him up?"_

"_Mikey sick?" Leonardo had taken notice, his beak scrunched up with concern. I was gratified to notice that he and Donatello crowded close to their smallest brother to share their warmth, and was privately amused when Raphael clamped onto Leonardo's shell, determined not to be left out._

"_Sleep well, my sons."_

…_._

_It would appear that my concern for Michelangelo was unfounded. He seemed perfectly fine after his nap, pestering me for food (an easy request to grant, since he missed lunch), and asking whether we might go to our "p'etty tun-nel!" I had to say no; I fear that, however well he seemed, it would not be good for him to play in the dampness of the sewer._

_For a moment, his face clouded over, and I warily anticipated a tantrum. Michelangelo is a sweet, loving child, and far less prone to fits of temper than his older brothers, but there have been times in which he has clamped on to an idea, and not let go. Thankfully, this time he agreed quite happily, and toddled off to play with his brothers. I watched as he dived onto Leonardo's lap for a cuddle, and went to prepare dinner._

_Excerpt from the diary of Hamato Yoshi, 26__日__, 9__月__._

_This morning, I awoke early to prepare the requested 'cake' for our Mutation Day. It was not as difficult as I had previously anticipated; however, the algae mixture would require time to 'set' in the refrigerator. Hanging the paper chains was also easy with no little turtles under my feet, so I found that I had time to sit and contemplate the journey we have all undertaken since that fateful day three years ago. The reminiscence is bittersweet; my memories of that time call up the figure of the broken man that I was, still reeling from the loss of my beloved Tang Shen, and beautiful Miwa. However, when I walked into the pet store looking for a low-maintenance companion, I could never have dreamed that the four little turtles I couldn't bear to separate would become my new family. I am oddly grateful to those strange men for giving me a reason to smile again._

…_.._

_The Mutation Day celebrations started smoothly. My sons were ecstatic to wake up to the festivities that I had prepared. Donatello demanded to be shown how to make paper chains, and now our home is utterly festooned with the colourful decorations! For a rare treat, I took them into the dojo (because of the possibility of injury from my collection of weapons, little turtles are strictly forbidden from entering) and put some music on my old, battered record player. Michelangelo showed quite the aptitude for dancing, but eventually grew tired and tripped over Raphael, who was lying on his front inspecting the _tatami_ mats. Needless to say, Raphael did not appreciate this, so I swiftly distracted them from the inevitable scrap by announcing that it was time for cake._

_Oh, how enchanted my sons were by my (somewhat feeble) algae-cake! I lit the thin taper candle and turned down the lights; how their eyes shone! It did me the world of good to see them tucking into their food so enthusiastically. I must remember this for the future. This day is a complete success._

…_._

_I fear all is not as well as I had hoped. My sons and I were exhausted by the unusual activities of the day, so I put them to bed a little earlier than normal, and soon retired myself. However, I was awoken an hour later by the sound of wailing coming from my sons' room. After rushing to their sides, I was greeted by the terrible sight and sound of Michelangelo vomiting in his sleep. His elder brothers were crowded at the other end of the cot, scared out of their wits._

"_Stoppit, Mikey!"_

"_Daddy, Mikey sick!"_

"_Hewp, Daddy!"_

_I wasted no time in scooping the ill child into my arms, lest he choke on his own vomit. I shuddered at the feel of his deathly-cold skin; something definitely was not right. Before I knew what I was doing, I had reached the bathroom, and begun to fill the tub with warm water. Throwing my robe to the damp floor, I climbed in with the bundle in my arms, holding him tightly against my chest in an attempt to warm him up._

"_Michelangelo…my son, please wake up…"_

_He was not vomiting anymore, but neither my warmth nor that of the water surrounding us was succeeding in making his icy skin any warmer. Hearing a noise at the bathroom door, I looked up to see my three eldest boys, shaken and huddled together. They seemed reluctant to enter._

"_It is alright, children. You may come in."_

_The three of them shuffled tentatively towards me. Donatello reached out a pudgy green hand and stroked his little brother lightly on the head._

"_Mikey ok?" he asked me. "Daddy make Mikey better?"_

_Leonardo and Raphael looked hopefully at me, displaying the trust that their father could make everything alright again. I looked down at the shivering baby in my arms, and was gratified to see that his eyes were open a fraction._

"_He will be fine, boys. I think he just has a small cold from sitting in the tunnels for too long. Come," I stood, and wrapped us both in a soft towel. "We will all sleep in Father's bed tonight."_

_They agreed enthusiastically, and we settled ourselves in my futon, all four children curled up together on my chest and belly. It made for an uncomfortable night, given the fact that whenever my frightened mind relaxed enough to fall into a light doze, I experienced a chubby hand tugging my whiskers, or a hard shell to the stomach. However, it was better that I stayed awake to watch over them. Whatever Michelangelo had, his brothers stood a good chance of catching it, so I monitored them all closely._

_Michelangelo himself had a fitful night. He shivered near constantly, despite laying on my chest with his brothers and blankets arranged carefully on top of him. He never woke, but he murmured sometimes. It was difficult to pick up on whatever he was saying, but one word stood out clearly._

"_Mama," he whimpered. "Ma…ma, Mama…"_

_I was honestly confused, and more than a little unnerved. None of the boys had ever brought up the …..subject of a mother before. I had not even told my little ones about Tang Shen, as I feared their young minds would not be able to comprehend the concept that there had been another family in my life before them. I had always imagined that, when I revealed the truth, the ghost of my beloved would be the only mother-figure that the boys would have._

_Clearly I was wrong._

_I leaned a little closer to my muttering son. There were other words sprinkled amongst the gibberish, such as "tunnel" and "wall". Was Michelangelo having a disturbing dream, brought on by illness, of his fascination with the small run-off section of our Tunnel 49? This seemed the most likely option, but still, my heart was troubled._

_The night seemed to last an eternity._

_Excerpt from the diary of Hamato Yoshi, 27__日__, 9__月__._

_Eventually, the morning came. Those of us well enough to sit up did so, and gathered around Michelangelo. The child seemed to fare even worse, if possible. I feared that we were losing our youngest to this sudden, fierce sickness. My eldest sons could clearly pick up on the fact that something was badly wrong; they trembled and crowded around their little brother with a desperate anxiety that was terrible to see in such young children._

_I did all I could for Michelangelo today. However, he continues to deteriorate, and mumbles near constantly about tunnels, walls, and someone called Mama._

_If it is the last wish of my son to return to that place, I will grant it._

…

_I carried Michelangelo in a sling on my front, with Raphael, Leonardo and Donatello toddling along beside me. Thankfully, the walk is not a long one. As soon as we got within sight of Tunnel 49, Michelangelo began behaving very strangely. Showing more spirit than he had all night, he struggled wildly in my arms, nearly tossing himself out of the sling. I tried to calm him, but his cries of "Mama! MAMA! Wall! Maaaama!" overpowered my attempts._

"_Ok, little one, I will take you to the wall. Please, hold still…"_

_My words didn't seem to get through. With a stern warning to my other sons to "stay put", I carried the wriggling infant down the side tunnel that had so fascinated him those two nights ago. When I had walked a short distance, he suddenly quieted, his eyes riveted to a crack in the mortar of the bricks. I shivered. It was much colder in this part of the tunnel, though I had left my eldest sons within sight in a pool of autumn sunshine coming through the broken grate. The boys seemed fine, if a little curious as to what I was doing with their little brother. Looking back at Michelangelo, I found him straining with all his might to reach the small crack in the wall._

"_Mama," he wailed plaintively. "Get Mama!"_

"_My son, there is nothing there. Look at Daddy, come on."_

_But he continued to ignore me, as though I were as inconsequential as one of the many flies buzzing around our heads. The knowledge hurt, and I am ashamed to say that my temper, worn thin by anxiety and a fractious, broken night, got the better of me. Setting Michelangelo down out of harm's way, I aimed for the loose mortar, and executed a powerful strike. Over the sounds of crumbling brick, I heard my children squealing in panic. I scooped Michelangelo up, coughing, and immediately turned, calling back down the narrow tunnel to reassure them._

"_It is alright, my sons. I was just showing Michelangelo that there is nothing—"_

_A foul stench assailed my sensitive nostrils at the same time as a noise, an odd, chittering, creaking sound, made my ears fold back against my head. The hackles along my spine rose as the animal instinct of fear rarely felt rose over me. _

_I did not want to look back._

_I did not._

_I did—_

_My jaw dropped in disbelief as, with an erroneous crunching sound, a dirty, yellowish mist coalesced in front of us. I was aware that such things must exist; the existence of _yurei_; human ghosts. I was instructed in the Shinto religion when I was a younger man. _

_However, the sight of such a creature in front of me had almost paralysed me with terror. It wasn't until the bundle in my arms chirped "Mama!" and the mist pushed forward slightly in response, that I rallied. Clutching my child protectively to my chest, my lips drew back in an animal snarl as I spat the familiar words of the _Kuji-in_; a purification chant that should, at the very least, buy us some time._

_The presence let out an enraged screech, and dissipated enough for me to bolt through, scoop up my wailing sons, and run back to our home with them clinging desperately to my fur. As soon as I cleared the turnstiles, I set them all down on one of the couches, and sprinted to my dojo. I had kept some relics from my days as a practicing ninja in Japan; one of which being a _shimenawa_ rope festooned with _shide _papers. These had been used in purification rituals for centuries in my homeland, and though I had no idea they would work, my frantic mind saw binding the spirit as the only solution._

_I wrapped them hastily around my body, and fled from the lair, ignoring the heart wrenching calls of my dear sons with great difficulty. The sense of wrongness festered even more strongly in the crumbling tunnel, and seemed to block out the sun itself. Diving in with only a _shimenawa _as protection suddenly struck me as foolhardy, but as the mist coalesced in front of me once more, I could feel a vague sense of distress beating at my spiritual mind._

"_You," I snarled, advancing and backing it toward the hole from whence it came, "will leave my son ALONE!"_

_I recited the _Kuji-in _once more, strengthening the chant with my own rage, fuelled by the furious, protective love of a father toward his sons. The spirit gave one more choking cry, and seemed to get sucked back through the crack in the tunnel wall. Wasting no time, I continued to speak the ancient words as I hastily placed the bricks back in an approximation of their original formation, and tied the _shimenawa_ to two dripping pipes sticking out of the wall._

_Immediately upon speaking the last words, the presence vanished. The change in the atmosphere was so abrupt that I fell to my knees, panting. Was that really the end of it? Was it over? Would Michelangelo—_

"_Michelangelo!"_

_Forcing my exhausted body to move once more was excruciating, but I reached the lair in record time. I could hear excited chattering coming from the living area; Raphael was laughing, Leonardo was squealing loudly, Donatello was speaking fast, joy in his voice, and Michelangelo…_

_I ground to a halt to witness my youngest son being propped up by his brothers, kissing every face that he could reach with the enthusiasm that I had so missed. He looked up at me, eyes sparkling with life._

"_Daddy," he chirped. "I'm hungry!"_

_Excerpt from the diary of Hamato Yoshi, 28__日__, 9__月__._

_Today, I boarded up the entrance to Tunnel 49. We shall not play here again._

The giant rat closed the faded diary with one paw, and beckoned the two strangers forward with the other.

"Now, you have heard the tale of how we came upon this tragedy."

Sighing gravely, he massaged his aching temples, then looked up, eyes bright with reluctant hope.

"Tell me," he began.

"Can you save my son?"

A/N: I love Splinter, but my goodness, his POV in _diary form_ really took it out of me! I hope you enjoyed this prologue! I'm off to New York myself tomorrow, so I'll be able to get a real feel for the next chapters!


	6. Tunnel 49 - Part 1

"_The curious are always in some danger. If you are curious, you might never come home."_

Jeanette Winterson

Have you ever seen Central Park in the last days of fall? Miles upon miles of twisting pathways, with a beautiful surprise around every corner. The trees blaze with a multitude of colours; burnt orange, burgundy, wine, sunny yellow. The birds chirp and trill, the children laugh and shriek, the tourists whirr and buzz as they click, click, click with their Canon and Nikon statement pieces, always looking for that perfect shot, that perfect memory. They wander off-piste, trample indigenous wildlife into mulch, and sometimes stumble into places they shouldn't.

There are some places native New Yorkers know not to disturb. Some places are fenced off for a reason.

But sometimes, fences get weak spots. Weak enough for two teenagers, buoyant with the freedom of solo exploration, to look around furtively, and slip inside. A sewer grate, frail enough to pry loose. A sense of danger, weakened by the curiosity of the unknown, ignored. A voice, almost inaudible, beckoning from inside a roped-off section of cracked brickwork and crumbling mortar.

When the two were found, almost a week later, no one could explain their withered bodies, kneeling reverently in front of a pile of broken concrete and tangled rope. The area was thoroughly investigated, but no answer was found in the muffled silence of the narrow tunnel. The case was closed, the tunnel cordoned off, sealed and signed off as a mystery.

Of course, the newspapers ran with it, the legend grew, and over the next six years, four more deaths occurred in the tunnel; all children under the age of sixteen. Seven others dragged themselves from the sewers more dead than alive, mumbling incoherently and calling for their mothers before dying days later in a hospital bed.

All the while, the presence in the wall grew stronger.

_I'm here, my baby. Mama will find you soon._

* * *

Stretching his tall frame with a groan, Donatello limped toward the faintly wavering image of the long couches in the living area like a man making for an oasis in a desert. He staggered past Leo, cross-legged on the floor in front of the final minutes of a re-run of Space Heroes and, ignoring his immediate older brother's concerned glance, collapsed into the comforting embrace of the nearest seat. The worn material covering the fat cushions felt like _heaven_ against his aching shell. He hadn't realised that he was drifting off until Leo's voice startled him awake.

"I take it the repairs on the Shellraiser aren't going so well?"

Donnie picked up his head and regarded his brother with one squinted eye. "Nope, finished repairing the damage from the run-in with the Kraang. Just took longer than I thought to secure the casing for the power-cell." He rubbed his beak in agitation.

"…We will get it back, Donnie."

His big brother's assurance sent a fresh spurt of confident energy surging through his veins. "I know we will. Maybe I can rig something up to track the energy signal of the cell…"

"The only thing you're gonna rig up is a good appetite, dude!" Donnie's baby brother climbed carefully over the back of the couch, rather than vaulting over like he usually would, and settled next to his exhausted big brother. He proffered a temptingly large sandwich with a flourish, but Donnie had long since learned to be wary of Michelangelo's cooking.

"That barely made sense, Mikey," he groaned. "What's in the sandwich? Tell me it's not sardines and peanut butter again."

Mikey giggled, his beak wrinkling with mischievous glee. "Still can't believe you ate that. Nah, it's just pastrami, cheese and salad. Totally boring, bro."

To Mikey's palate, maybe, but Don found himself grabbing the plate and practically inhaling the sandwich. The smooth, creamy cheddar contrasted beautifully with the slight saltiness of the meat and the fresh lettuce and tomato, and he was finished before he even knew what was happening. He leaned back with a grateful sigh, his head resting comfortably on the edge of the couch.

"Thanks, Mikey. That was awesome."

His little brother grinned widely, always happy to be praised by his family. "Want another?"

"No, thank you. I could sleep for a week…"

"I'll take you up on that sandwich offer, bro," came Leo's voice from in front of the television.

"Ha! You can't resist the awesome power of Dr Sandwich…enstein…"

"That was weak."

"Hey, that kinda sass isn't getting you any closer to your sandwich! You think Raph wants one?"

Donnie managed to pay attention at the mention of his immediate younger brother. "Yeah, where is Raph?"

Leo tilted his head to the side in order to convey that he was participating in their conversation, but didn't have to move his eyes from the TV screen. "He was feeling a little funky after Xever bit him, so Master Splinter told him-"

As if their conversation had summoned him, Raph suddenly sidled into the living area, keeping a wary eye out for their overprotective father. He spotted the three turtles staring at him, and offered them a sheepish grin.

"Staying in my room was driving me up the wall," he said petulantly. "And I got hungry."

"Perfect timing, bro!" Mikey chirped. "I was just making sandwiches!"

Raphael's face lit up, then immediately clouded over with suspicion. "You put anything weird in my sandwich, and I swear, I will ram it down your throat. I still haven't forgotten the tomato and Nutella panini."

"Let's not forget the mozzarella and chocolate rolls." Leo shuddered at the memory, and Mikey rolled his eyes, scales slightly ruffled in irritation.

"You guys are total culinary Palestines."

"I think you mean 'philistines'." Donnie mumbled from his prone position on the couch. His eyes were growing heavier, and his muscles ached badly after the speedy shower he'd forced himself to have. The comforting sounds of his brothers' good-natured bickering grew dim as he drifted into a doze.

The sudden feeling of being lifted awoke him with a start. One of his brothers (unless Master Splinter had spontaneously sprouted a shell) had hoisted him into a standing position and was walking him in the general direction of their bedrooms. He groaned in protest.

"C'mon, Donnie, your bed's gonna be so much comfier than the couch," came Mikey's voice, sounding slightly strained under his weight. Donnie made an effort to help himself along, and soon found himself being deposited in his amazing, wonderful bed. To his surprise, Mikey crawled in with him and pressed snugly against his side. He automatically draped an arm over his little brother, and dredged a questioning noise from deep in his throat.

"Sorry, Donnie, but I'm super freezing," Mikey said. "Mind if I crash with you tonight?"

Mikey's skin _did_ seem much colder than usual, and Donnie drew him a little closer. He just about managed a mumbled "sure" before a sweet, dreamless sleep overtook him.

* * *

Mikey awoke with a start to the sound of someone calling for him. It wasn't so much his actual name that he had heard; more of a general sense that someone needed him. Sitting up gently so as not to disturb his big brother, he peered around the darkened bedroom, expecting one of his other brothers, or maybe Sensei. However, the door was still firmly closed, and beside him, Donnie slept soundly. Chalking the experience up to a weird dream, Mikey settled back against Don, shivering lightly. Why was it so _cold_ in here? He tumbled back into a restless sleep, waking every few hours with a troubled, nameless anxiety, and eventually sneaked out of his brother's bed at four a.m.

Grabbing the quilt from his own room, he made his way to the kitchen, and nursed a cup of Sensei's herbal tea with little enthusiasm, dozing on his folded arms every so often. Eventually, his brothers made their way into the kitchen with varying degrees of alertness. By that time, Mikey had woken himself up enough to prepare them a light breakfast of toast and cold cereal to be eaten before Sensei called them for training. He declined to eat any himself, as his stomach was still churning after his restless night. Instead, he put his head down once more, and tried to snatch a five minute nap.

He didn't notice the looks of concern his big brothers exchanged at his unusually subdued attitude, nor Raph's gentleness as he shook Mikey awake for practice with their father. The beginning katas flew by with a dreamlike quality, and before he knew it, Mikey was facing off against Leonardo, with his father barking "_Hajime_!" behind him. He tried desperately to keep up with his eldest brother, but his legs felt like they were filled with ice water, and he inevitably stumbled just as Leo performed a defensive thrust with the hilt of his _ninjaken_. The sword's _tsuba_ clipped his left eye as he fell to his knees with a gasp. His noise of surprise was echoed swiftly by Leo.

"Oh, Mikey! Are you ok, man?! Why didn't you block me? Here, lemme see. Sensei!"

During his high-speed rant, Leo had pushed up his baby brother's mask to see the damage. He and the family that had surrounded them hissed in sympathy at the blossoming shiner that was fast emerging.

"My son, are you in pain?" Master Splinter enquired, his tail lashing the ground in agitation.

"Mikey, I'm so sorry!" Leo wailed.

"Here, Mikey, let's get you some ice," Donnie cajoled.

"Are you ok, little bro-"

"I'm fine," Mikey interrupted Raph. "I'm good, we can carry on!"

Sensei shook his head gravely. "No, Michelangelo, you cannot. I sense your exhaustion is impairing your judgement, so you may rest whilst your brothers and I continue our lesson."

"But Sensei-"

His father glowered at him. "No buts, my son. Go to the corner of the room and try to get some rest."

Fighting back inexplicable tears, Mikey ignored his worried brothers as he trudged to the softer _tatami_ mats in the corner of the dojo. He knew his father was only concerned, not truly angry, but it felt as though he was being punished all the same. Curling into a ball, he surprised himself by drifting into a dreamless sleep.

_Can you hear me? Can you hear me? I'm here, baby. Can you hear me?_


	7. Tunnel 49 - Part 2

A/N: Next part! I have screwed with canon slightly, since this is AU, so this fic takes part in Season 1 of Supernatural, just after 'Something Wicked'. I wanted non-jaded boys! 

"…_let my heart go, let your son grow. Mama, let my heart go, or let this heart be still…yeah, still_!"

The dulcet tones of his big brother caterwauling along to Metallica was nothing new to Sam Winchester. Neither was spending hour upon hour cooped up in Dean's beloved Impala as they drove cross-country chasing ghost stories, often with a dangerous sting of truth in their tales. However, this particular journey had him glancing in awe out of the open window. The skyline of Manhattan was…something else. Thousands of high rise skyscrapers jostled against each other as they strained their hulking forms up to touch the open sky. California was huge, no question, but something about taking on a hunt in an area so crammed with buildings and crowds and noise…it wasn't going to be easy.

Dean glanced sideways at him from where he was _supposed_ to be watching the busy New Jersey Turnpike. A large people carrier overtook them, honking their horn loudly. His big brother flicked them the bird almost unconsciously, still scrutinizing Sam.

"…You ok?" he said finally. Sam gave him a weak smile. Their last hunt had been difficult for the both of them, the Shtriga bringing up some unpleasant memories. Sam knew that Dean had been far more affected than himself, but his elder brother was never one to concentrate on his own feelings, especially when he was concerned about Sammy.

"I'm fine, dude. Just kinda overwhelmed. New York is huge!"

Dean chuckled. "Small town boy, through and through. Would've thought Stanford cured you of that Waltons crap."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Dean slapped a crumpled newspaper into his hands. "Here you go, country boy. Make yourself useful, and check up on the facts Caleb gave us."

Sam stuck his tongue out at his laughing brother, and opened the paper. Caleb had called them in Wisconsin a day or so ago, claiming that his usual contact for the East Coast had suffered a serious case of…decapitation, and some "shit was goin' down" in New York. When pressed, their friend admitted that he wasn't really sure what the problem was, but a 'lady friend' had called him after her niece had died three days after sneaking into a sewer tunnel. According to the newspaper Sam was reading, said tunnel had a ghostly legend attached to it that attracted foolishly curious teens like bees to a honeypot.

Apparently, before they died, the afflicted children told anyone who would listen that a mysterious, irresistible voice could be heard calling softly in a certain area of Central Park. The children swore blind that the force sounded like their own mothers.

The article ended with a description of the children currently being treated at the New York Presbyterian; the Morgan Stanley Children's Hospital, to be precise. Sam finished the story with a heavy heart, just as the late afternoon sunlight suddenly dimmed. Dean had just pulled into the Holland Tunnel, and slowed drastically in the slew of traffic. Now that there was no danger of distracting his brother and causing an accident (not that Dean seemed bothered in the slightest, so confident was he in the abilities of himself and his 'baby'), Sam filled him in with a brief overview of what they were to expect.

"So, what do you think is luring these kids into the sewers?" he finished, gauging Dean's reaction carefully. He knew that the cases involving children struck an unpleasant chord within his elder brother.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, three-day stubble rasping against his palm. "Could be anything. Skinwalkers can imitate human voices. Wendigos too. Central Park ain't exactly a hotspot for angry, cannibalistic monsters, though, so I'm goin' for ghost."

"What about another Shtriga?"

"We couldn't possibly be that unlucky, dude. Anyway, paper said the victims were all teenagers, right? Too old. There's gotta be a Shtriga smorgasbord of younger kids hangin' around a park waiting to get eaten."

Sam wrinkled his nose at Dean's rough statement, but ultimately agreed. Sighing, he took a gulp of stone-cold coffee and shuddered. The head rest provided a comfortable napping spot while his brother attempted to navigate the traffic of a Friday evening in New York City. This was going to take a while.

* * *

'_My legs are getting numb_,' Raphael thought to himself, groaning internally so as not to disturb the sleeping lump curled up on his lap. He wouldn't usually allow such ridiculously sappy closeness, but c'mon, no-one with a heart could have refused Michelangelo that afternoon. After his accident, and subsequent nap in the dojo, Raph's baby brother had been…_clingier_ than usual. Sure, the kid was affectionate; hugs and head rubs and nuzzles were all gratefully received and given by the youngest turtle.

However, when Splinter had gently awoken Mikey earlier that day, he had shied away from his father and followed Raph into the main living area. They had been watching TV relatively peacefully, with Mikey ignoring any and all attempts to participate in conversation, or be aggravated by his immediate older brother, when Mikey suddenly slumped sideways and landed on Raph's lap.

"I'm so cold," was his only explanation, and instead of shoving his little brother onto the floor like he usually would, Raph nodded and pulled a blanket from the back of the couch. Mikey's skin was _freezing_.

"Thanks," the youngest turtle breathed, huddling in closer to Raph's warmth. The bigger turtle could easily admit that he was worried. Mikey was cuddly, sure, but in a totally irritating, irrepressible puppy-esque manner. This quiet, shivering lump with a bruise blossoming over one eye didn't resemble his bright, cheerful baby brother in the slightest. Hesitating slightly, Raph placed his hand heavily on Mikey's head, which seemed to soothe him a little.

An hour later, Leonardo wandered in with a book in his hand, still damp from his post-training shower. Raph noticed his eldest brother do the slightest double-take when he saw the sleeping Mikey draped over Raph's lap. Leo's inky-blue eyes narrowed in concern.

"Did I really hit him that hard?" he asked, chewing on his lower lip in consternation and approaching the sitting pair at a rapid pace. Raphael shook his head and shifted uncomfortably. Mikey was _heavy_.

"Nah," he reassured Leo, rolling his eyes when the other turtle plonked himself on the raised flooring behind the couch. Was _everyone_ going to invade his personal space today? "Pretty sure he's coming down with something. He keeps saying he's cold."

Momentarily reassured, Leo slid into the space not currently occupied by their slumbering brother, and lifted Mikey's legs onto his own lap. Raph pointedly turned on the TV to dissuade further conversation. Flipping through the channels, he caught snippets of programmes, none of them particularly catching his attention.

"…_love you, I don't care if you're my half-sister!"_

"…_Un buen día por…"_

"…_from half-court…"_

"…_deaths occurring after breaking into the city's sewer system…"_

"…_ready to win some CASH?!"_

"Hold it, Raph." Leo's eyes had lifted from his book, and were squinting at the screen with laser focus. "Go back one."

Raph shrugged, but obliged. The usually jovial face of Carlos Chiang O'Brien Gambe filled the screen, looking strangely sombre as he spoke to a blonde reporter on site at a large, imposing building.

"…here at Morgan Stanley Children's Hospital where another child has, despite the best efforts of the doctors here, unfortunately passed away," she said. "Specialists are as yet baffled by the strange symptoms exhibited by this mysterious disease. My source inside the hospital claims that patients are, for lack of a better term, 'wasting away'. The disease shows all the signs of a terminal illness in its final stages, but is accelerated to a point whereby sufferers are only lasting, on average, one week. My source also commented that many of the patients seemed obsessed with keeping their mothers nearby.

"The only thing that seems to link the deceased together is the fact that they all admitted to breaking in to a disused sewer tunnel underneath Central Park. Experts have examined the area in case of any airborne diseases, but both samples from the tunnel and blood taken from the patients themselves show no abnormalities. We urge you, please, do not enter the tunnel yourself. Security measures have been increased-"

The woman's voice stopped abruptly as Leo pressed the remote. Silence reigned throughout the living area, making the already large expanse of their subway station home seem cavernous. Raphael and Leonardo looked at each other over the sleeping lump of baby brother in both of their laps, fear and confusion evident in both emerald green and navy blue eyes. Leo opened his mouth to speak, and both were startled by the sudden appearance of Donatello and April.

"Guys! Look what April and I just developed! It's an app for tracking…what's the matter?" Donnie's speech gradually trailed off as he came across his three brothers, the youngest sleeping soundly across the laps of the others, who seemed frozen with worry.

"…Leo? Raph? What's wrong?" questioned April, already on the move towards the turtles gathered on the couch. Donatello was on her heels, and they both crouched down in front of their stricken brothers.

Leo managed to find his voice.

"…I think we need Sensei."

* * *

"Jeez…" Donnie said, after Leo and Raph had haltingly explained what they had heard. "There's some kind of airborne disease _killing_ people down here?! It sounds a little like tuberculosis! Who knows how long we've been exposed to all the pathogens-"

Splinter interrupted his most intelligent son gently. "Donatello, Leonardo and Raphael have explained that there is no evidence of any disease in the bloodstream of the patients. Calm your mind, my son. It cannot be tuberculosis. Besides, the timescale of this tragedy is reported to have gone on for some time."

They were each silent for a moment, absorbing the words Sensei both did and didn't say. The disturbing fact of the matter was, Donnie mused, that had this supposed disease been lingering in the sewers for a prolonged amount of time, they all undoubtedly would have already contracted it.

"So…what is it?" April broke the silence, her voice trembling slightly.

"…It's Mama," came a halting, weak voice from the couch. Five heads whipped in the direction of the stirring turtle still resting on the laps of his older brothers. Michelangelo's eyes were still closed, but a frown furrowed his forehead, and his beak was scrunched up in either pain or fear. Beads of cold sweat had formed on his face, and his freckles stood out in sharp relief against his pale skin. All in all, their baby brother had never looked worse.

"…Michelangelo? My son, what did you just say?" Master Splinter questioned with a strange trembling note to his voice. "Are you awake? What did you just say, Michelangelo?!"

Their father had, by this point, seized the sleeping turtle by his shoulders, and heaved him from his brothers in to his own embrace. Mikey's eyes opened at once, and he struggled fiercely against his Sensei.

"Lemme _go_!" he screamed, startling everyone present. The younger members of the clan crowded around their Sensei and their baby brother, each grabbing a flailing limb and attempting, with little success, to calm him.

"S-Sensei! Maybe you should let him go!" April cried, narrowly avoiding a large foot to the face. Splinter took no notice of his newest pupil, and instead, slapped his youngest around the face. With one final shriek of "_MAMA_-", Michelangelo shot into an upright position, and looked blearily around him.

"…Why's everybody staring at me?"

* * *

Dean had felt a little bad about duping the sweet nurse in charge of the intensive care unit at the Morgan Stanley Children's Hospital, but unfortunately, it had to be done. The NYPD database Sam had hacked into had been full of pictures of the terminally ill teenagers. Their wasted bodies and clouded, milky eyes had been more than enough encouragement to get the job done any way possible.

"So, why are you here, Agent…?"

"Roeser, ma'am, and my partner Agent Bloom. We're opening up a cold case; seems like there's been an increase in the fatal activity around a certain area in Central Park."

The nurse's brown eyes widened. _Bingo_. "You mean the sewers case?" she chirped helpfully. "Yes, we've had more patients over the last six months than ever before. I was new here when it all started six years ago. Horrible. Those poor children."

Dean exchanged a glance with his brother. Sam was studiously scribbling in his notebook, but he gave Dean a surreptitious nod to continue.

"Yes, it must be awful. Do you have any of the affected patients here now?"

The nurse looked away from his probing gaze, sadness clouding her bright expression. "I'm afraid the last one passed on two days ago, Agent."

Dean's heart sank, for the loss of the child and the loss of potential insider information. "I'm really sorry to hear that, ma'am. Has there been any headway in identifying the disease?"

"No, I'm sorry to say. It's like nothing we've ever seen before. No abnormalities in the blood, nothing shows up on the scans…it's like they're just…wasting away."

Dean nodded, and placed a hand on her shoulder, making her jump slightly. "One more question, and I'm sorry if it seems a little cold. When the children…passed on, was it an easy death? Did they go peacefully?"

Her eyes hardened. "No death is 'easy', Agent Roeser," she said coldly. "If it's essential to your investigation, then I can tell you that they died…c-crying for their mothers." Her voice began to shake, and she put a hand up to her mouth.

"You're a brave woman, ma'am. I don't think I could've stood it," Dean said truthfully, feeling Sam's giant puppy-dog eyes gazing in their direction sympathetically. "Did any of the children call for their fathers?"

The nurse acquired a faraway look on her face. "You know, it's the strangest thing," she murmured. "Each and every child went crazy when their fathers got anywhere near them. Even if there was no mom there."

Once more, Dean flicked his eyes to Sam, who had also noticed the significance of the nurse's statement. He ducked his head to the nurse in a short, conclusive nod.

"Thank you, ma'am, you've been so helpful. If you think of anything else, _anything_," Dean stressed, with prolonged eye-contact, "…call me on this number."

He felt a small sense of gratification as she flushed whilst grasping the crumpled piece of Sam's notebook paper that he'd written his cell number on. The brothers turned to leave, and hadn't gotten more than four steps away when they were halted by her voice.

"Agents…I really hope you find out what's going on. This needs to stop."

Slightly taken aback by the light of understanding in her eyes, Dean floundered momentarily. Sam stepped up, speaking for the first time since their charade had begun.

"Don't worry. We'll make sure it does."

Hurrying out of the large double doors at the entrance to the children's hospital, they both breathed a sigh of relief. Sam turned to his big brother with a questioning expression.

"So, what's our next move?"

_Good question, Sammy_. The information the nurse had given them, while valuable in determining the nature of the job, had revealed little in the way of hard evidence.

"I'm thinking that it's definitely a haunting; some kind of ghost sickness," Dean mused. "But there's only one way to be sure."

Sam's expression suggested that he knew what Dean was about to say, and was none too pleased about it.

"We need to make a trip into the sewers."


End file.
